


on one side of an ampersand

by sirenofodysseus



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/F, F/M, Language, Manipulation, Multi, Thoughts Gone Awry, interrogation room sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 22:12:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13510818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenofodysseus/pseuds/sirenofodysseus
Summary: AU, Circa-4x24. He’s obviously never slept with Lisbon, but he thinks she’d be terrific in bed, because she’s terrific in everything she does. Righteous, and strong, and beautiful to boot– Teresa Lisbon is the perfect woman. But, he thinks with a frown, so is Lorelei Martins.





	on one side of an ampersand

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thanks to Kris, who encouraged me to write this monster out after days (and days) of indecisiveness. You always seem to know exactly what to say to keep me from jumping off the walls. :)
> 
> As always, I own nothing and am not sorry for furthering the office sex cliches. ;)

“You know, I only slept with Patrick so I could meet you,” Lorelei tells her, the moment they’re alone in the interrogation room together. Lisbon’s mouth is still dry from Lorelei’s admission of sleeping with Jane, because _what the hell_? Jane’s supposed to be celibate and mourning his dead wife; not out fucking acolytes for ‘new lives’. “When He talks about Patrick Jane, He also talks about the morally righteous Teresa Lisbon.”

 

“Is that so?” She asks, unsurprised. Lisbon supposes she and Jane are a package-type deal, considering the number of times they’ve dealt with Red John together and have survived. She thinks, maybe, the first lesson the serial killer teaches his acolytes is about The Team that Always (Almost) Outsmarts Him.

 

Lorelei’s smile is sickly sweet. “You are far prettier in person, Agent Lisbon.” Her stomach rolls. “While I’ve studied you for quite a while now, Agent; I still feel like I’m not prepared for our meeting.”

 

Lisbon doesn’t react. “You’ve studied me?” Lorelei nods, still smiling, and Lisbon inches backwards slightly until she’s put at least twelve inches between them. Engaging a misguided psychopath is not how they work; however, Lorelei continues to speak without regard to CBI protocol.

 

“I know you enjoy your work a little too much,” Lorelei rattles off, looking almost radiant in prison orange. “You keep a bottle of aged tequila in the bottom drawer of your desk, as it reminds you of Sam Bosco.” How Red John knows that one, Lisbon’s not entirely too sure. “You love your coffee black and strawberries are your fruit of choice.” An ugly feeling creeps up her spine at the intensity from Lorelei’s stare, but she keeps her expression neutral. “As I told you, Teresa, I’ve studied you.”

 

“As you’ve probably studied all of us,” Lisbon remarks in an attempt to force Lorelei’s attention away from her. Lorelei seems undeterred and that obsessive-level behavior reminds her of Jane with Red John. “I can assure you, none of us are all that interesting.”

 

Lorelei meets her eyes. “Compared to the rest of your unit, I disagree.” She watches Lorelei shrug. “I’ve seen a million and one officers like your team, but of course,” Lorelei’s smile grows. “there’s only one you.” Lisbon blinks at Lorelei’s unwarranted compliment. She’s not really sure how to respond (nor is she really sure she should). “I’ve made the mighty Agent Lisbon blush. I feel honored.” Lisbon, again, says nothing. “It’s alright, Agent, I understand.”

 

“Understand what?”

 

“Why you can’t say anything,” Lorelei tells her, before her gaze moves to the cross that hangs around Lisbon’s neck. “Heavy, is it not? Religion often finds a way to make situations, such as this one, far more difficult than it should be.” Lisbon watches Lorelei shrug again. “It’s part of the reason I befriended Red John. I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not.” Lorelei continues to eye her cross, as though it has personally wronged her and Lisbon swallows.

 

Regardless of her ties to Red John, Lorelei Martins is not terrifying. Lorelei Martins is many things – she’s conniving, manipulative and tough; but Lisbon realizes, she’s also the female equivalent to Jane.

 

“I’m sure you also can’t say a word, due to the bureau you swore to uphold and protect,” Lorelei adds, finally glancing away from the cross before she laughs. “Again, heavy is it not?” Lorelei meets her gaze again and without a secondary word, Lisbon calls for Ron. “It’s alright, Agent Lisbon,” Lorelei tells her, as Ron enters the interrogation room to escort her to a holding cell for the night.  “Not everyone’s ready for the startling truth about themselves.” Lorelei smiles. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”

 

Lisbon doesn’t respond.

 

::::

 

Lorelei smiles brightly as _Ron_ leads her away, past the Serious Crimes Unit where Patrick watches her and the agents, who call Teresa _boss_ , are hard at work. She thinks she pities them, because _how many_ of their lives has Patrick ruined in his quest for vengeance? How many of them, tonight, will go home to dream of Luther Wainwright’s bloodied corpse?

 

Red John’s reminded her, time and time again, the Agents of the Bureau chose this life for themselves. They all agreed to live – and die – by the pursuit of justice. Ultimately, they were all cogs to a system that wouldn’t stop (or care) if they were gone.

 

It’s why, sometimes, she thinks the entire CBI to be misguided. If they knew what He was truly about, she thinks they’d come willingly. They’d experience a freedom unlike any other; and Lorelei’s never understood the point of living a life, restricted. It’s probably why Patrick and Teresa intrigue her so. Both of them are gorgeous, sultry, and have the competence to be as renowned as Red John himself; and yet, they squander. They choose _justice_ and _religion_ or _revenge_ and _petty games_ , over the ability to be happy and free.

 

Lorelei sighs. She supposes she came on a little too thick with Teresa, who obviously has feelings (beyond friendship) for Patrick. However, Lorelei’s also not blind or ignorant.

 

Of course, Teresa’s attracted to men – but there’s no way she’s _not_ attracted to women either; and as selfish as it might be, Lorelei only wants Teresa to denounce _everything_ that keeps her prisoner to her religion, her faith, and her morality. Then, _maybe_ , they’d be on equal footing. Then, _maybe_ , Lorelei can feel as if she’s worthy of Teresa’s attention.

 

(Of course, Lorelei reminds herself, she cannot force another into allure. Nor can she force herself upon another without consequence. She’s done a lot of misguided things, but she won’t rape another. Even the misguided, after all, have limits of depravity.)

 

Humming to herself after Ron’s left, Lorelei smiles at her memory of the night she shared with Patrick. Red John’s gift to the wayward consultant was the chance for a new life. And Red John’s gift to her? The prospect of two new lovers, even if they were not yet aware of her intent.

 

 

::::

 

Jane’s almost disappointed that Lorelei Martins belongs to Red John – not because he’s got her so confused she thinks him a savior, but because Lorelei is so _heart wrenchingly beautiful_ – like Teresa Lisbon; only, far more dangerous. He cannot help but envy Red John for having her first.

 

Reclining on his couch after he’s left Lorelei and Lisbon in the interrogation room, Jane also cannot help but compare both women. He’s known Lisbon for years; she’s walked through hell with him, stood by him during his darkest hours, and she’s been where few have dared to go. Yet, there’s still something about Lorelei that intrigues him. If not for Red John, Jane wonders if Lorelei would have turned out like Lisbon.

 

And if not for her faith, would Lisbon have turned out like Lorelei?

 

He knows his thoughts would be unflattering to Lisbon, however, he cannot deny his honest curiosity toward both women. Or his unspoken attraction toward them either, which is wrong on so many different levels. Until Red John is dead, he knows he shouldn’t be thinking of another woman aside from his wife—but sleeping with Lorelei had just felt _so_ right. The swell of her copious breasts in his hands, the feeling of himself inside of her sans condom, the smell of her hair, and the salty taste of her skin…

 

Until he’d heard Lorelei calling out _his_ name, his hands trapping her wrists to the bed, he’d all but forgotten his inclination toward damaged brunettes—Angela had been one, and unfortunately for him, so were Lisbon and Lorelei. Both of whom, he couldn’t touch because _one_ of them was his partner, and the other belonged to a serial killer, who had all but destroyed him and everything he’d once stood for.

 

Talk about irony. 

 

Closing his eyes, Jane ponders what it would be like to have them both; to not be in a world where Red John exists. He imagines happiness. He imagines a bed large enough for three, and he imagines returning home each night to plenty of laughter.

 

(He also imagines plenty of sex too.

 

Tons of swelling breasts to squeeze, and folds to lap, and a hand (or two) against his penis, wheedling him to come.)

 

He’s obviously never slept with Lisbon, but he thinks she’d be terrific in bed, because she’s terrific in everything she does. Righteous, and strong, and _beautiful_ to boot– Teresa Lisbon is the perfect woman.

 

But, he thinks with a frown, so is Lorelei Martins.

 

(And of course, then he remembers that he and Lisbon, or he, Lisbon and Lorelei, or he and Lorelei will never happen, because _again_ – one of them is his partner (who he’s almost certain is straight) and the other is a serial killer’s mistress, who is about to be sent to prison for an extremely long time.)

 

&

 

“Boss?” Rigsby interrupts as she’s finishing her emailed report to Director Bertram about Agent Wainwright’s death and Agent Darcy’s subsequent breakdown twenty-four hours later. Lisbon glances upwards after she presses _send_ at her subordinate, who looks like he’s been through hell. In the span of seventy-two hours, they all have – between faking his death and her abduction, Lisbon knows she’ll be happy when this whole mess is behind them. “I’m going to take a few personal days, if that’s alright?”

 

“Everything alright, Wayne?” She asks. He shakes his head.

 

“Sarah’s angry,” he explains softly and Lisbon doubts the suggestion of _chocolates, flowers_ or _apologies_ will be sufficient enough to explain away this. “I need to try and fix our relationship.” He pauses, before he adds, “for Ben.” Lisbon nods and goes to retrieve the forms from her desk for him, when he continues. “Also, Jane had Lorelei brought up from holding about twenty minutes ago.” She eyes him in surprise, which then turns to anger. He’s not supposed to be talking to Lorelei without her in the room. He’s not supposed to be talking to Lorelei period. Lisbon stands from her desk, pushing the paperwork toward Rigsby before she starts toward the door. “They’re in interrogation room A.”

 

She doesn’t acknowledge him, as she storms from her office and to interrogation room A. She thinks she might just kill Patrick Jane, as again, Lorelei Martins is _off-limits_ until the FBI has a chance to speak with her.

 

Lisbon notices, almost immediately, that the blinds are drawn.

 

“Jane,” she mutters. God, he’s going to get all of them fired. She moves to open the interrogation room door, but it doesn’t open and Lisbon’s certain he’s locked the door to keep her out. Pounding her fist against the door and receiving nothing in response, she goes for her keyring only to realize it’s gone.

 

_Bastard_ , she thinks. Jane’s obviously the reason her keys are gone, considering she had them when she had told him to keep away from Lorelei. Lisbon glances at the lock. She could pick it. She could also find someone to unlock the door for her. But she knows she doesn’t have time to waste. Retreating to the observation room, thankfully unlocked, Lisbon enters. She’s prepared to call Jane through the speaker in admonishment, but before she can, she catches Jane removing Lorelei’s top.

 

Her mouth opens slightly at the sight of Lorelei, who stands before Jane in only pants. Her breasts heavy with volume, nipples hard and just barely dark, as Jane presses his lips against hers and shoves her backwards, against the two-way observational mirror with a soft thump.

 

Lorelei chuckles, before Jane tilts his head slightly to nip at her neck. Lisbon hears Lorelei moan and suddenly, she’s meeting Jane’s gaze through the mirror. She cannot see his hands, but from Lorelei’s low gasps and the slight upward curve of Jane’s lips as he continues to languish her neck with kisses; Lisbon’s almost certain Jane has his fingers buried into Lorelei.   

 

And at the same time, she’s almost _ninety-five_ percent certain he planned this.

 

For some ungodly reason, Jane _wants_ her to see him and Lorelei going at it. The thought of _them_ having sex on the interrogation room table (or anywhere in the interrogation room, really) sends a shiver down her spine. Is nothing sacred in the CBI anymore? Hadn’t _anyone_ learned from the debacle that was Grace Van Pelt and Wayne Rigsby? Lisbon goes to slam her hand against the two-way mirror, when suddenly, Jane turns Lorelei to where her breasts are fleshed against the reflective surface. Lisbon blinks, her mouth dry at the up-close sight of Lorelei’s nipples, as Jane moves to strip Lorelei of her bottoms.

 

She closes her eyes, because while _yes_ , Lorelei’s attractive in a completely non-sexual type of way – she still doesn’t want to see the woman be fucked. Acolyte or not, after all, there are just somethings that shouldn’t be witnessed—and this, to her, is one of them. Opening her eyes to leave, Lisbon turns her head slightly only to catch sight of Jane’s erect penis. She stops. Some of the women, especially those in the Narcotics taskforce, discuss Jane and Jane’s length every so often. She doesn’t, of course, but that’s because she actually has decorum.

 

CBI also doesn’t stand for California Bureau of Innuendo. It stands for the California Bureau of Investigation.

 

However, she cannot deny her roundabout curiosity either. Jane’s cock, from a distance, doesn’t seem different from any of the ones she’s seen—but it’s the way he’s holding— _stroking_ —it that makes her pause. How would he feel inside her, instead of Lorelei? Unable to move, she watches him sink two fingers into Lorelei’s behind.

 

Lorelei’s eyes flutter shut, and in turn, Jane adds a third finger.

 

Lisbon eyes him. As frantic and eccentric as he seems, she thinks he’d be a lot rougher. Not fist-fucking her raw rough, but a little bit more than three fingers fucking her rough. Lorelei seems to be enjoying it though, judging by her short gasps of breath and Lisbon supposes that’s all that matters.

 

She watches him remove his fingers from inside her, after a few minutes, before he goes for something in his pocket. Lube and a condom, she realizes, as he slathers the head of his penis with the suave and he rolls on the condom. He says nothing as he guides himself into her, hips rolling as Lorelei swallows hard and mews.

 

“Fuck, lover,” she hears Lorelei manage breathily, as Jane quickens his rhythmic thrusts to her backside. “There. Oh my _god_ , yes!”

 

Lisbon’s eyes widen. The interrogation rooms aren’t exactly soundproof. If she had stumbled upon them by accident (or on purposeful accident, due to Jane’s manipulation), then what stops others from hearing Lorelei’s sounds of pleasure? She thinks the same thought crosses Jane’s mind, because his voice is the next thing she hears.

 

“Want everyone to know what we’re doing in here?” He sounds amused and Lorelei turns her head briefly. She doesn’t hear Lorelei’s response, but from Jane’s pinching of her bare thigh – she thinks it must be have been something cheeky. Something related to Red John, perhaps? Lisbon doesn’t imagine Lorelei as one to be shy around the concept or act of sex; the brunette spent time with Red John, after all, and is probably used to others watching her orgasm. “You make another sound,” he adds with a smile, “and I will gag you.”

 

Lorelei falls silent, as Jane continues to rock his hips, until she licks her lips and shoves him backwards with her body. He laughs until she turns and falls to her knees, only to skirt her tongue across his penis, which she’s removed the condom from. Jane stares straight at her, whilst Lorelei proceeds to fuck him with her mouth; his fingers buried in her hair, guiding her to deep throat him after a few moments. Lisbon ignores Lorelei’s slight gag, as she stares back at Jane. He can’t see her, but she thinks if she thinks it loudly enough – he’ll stop.

 

He does not.

 

Instead, he only allows Lorelei to fuck him harder with her mouth; her fingers dancing along his balls, as he groans lowly in turn. Lisbon continues to stare, almost hypnotized by the sudden unbridled emotion of pure bliss on Jane’s face. She’s been by his side for over five years and she’s never _once_ seen him so relaxed. So calm. So, at peace. She thinks she could stare at this version of him for hours and not ever be bored.

 

Lisbon sees Lorelei stop and Jane glance down at her, a smile playing at his lips before he leans down and presses his lips against hers again. What starts as a gentle kiss quickly turns into a bruising one, as Jane yanks Lorelei upwards and onto the interrogation room table, where his hands cup her breasts and squeeze them, until Lisbon hears Lorelei whimper.

 

“Am I hurting you?” Lisbon hears Jane ask, as he steps in front of Lorelei’s still-naked form. Lisbon assumes Lorelei’s okay, as Jane bends down to bite at the underside of Lorelei’s breast. Lorelei’s head rolls backwards, before Jane pushes her down atop the interrogation room table, only to mount her – his backside on display, as he begins to grind his hips into hers.

 

Above the sound of her own harsh breathing, Lisbon hears Lorelei and Jane’s murmurs of passion, as she watches Lorelei’s hips lift to meet Jane’s. For both of their sakes, Lisbon seriously hopes he brought more than _one_ condom. She doubts Jane wants to impregnate Lorelei or catch any sexual diseases, just for one more moment of passion.  

 

“Patrick,” Lorelei moans and Lisbon hears her panting, as Jane quickens his movements until Lorelei adds, excitedly, “God, Patrick, god,” while her fingers rake down his backside, and her teeth sink into his bare shoulder.

 

Jane stills suddenly, his back tensing as Lisbon imagines him spilling into Lorelei (and into the condom). She wishes she could see his face, but all she can see is the lazy smile across Lorelei’s sweaty and flushed face, as she stares upwards – probably spent, as well.

 

Lisbon feels something break inside of her at Lorelei’s softened expression, and suddenly, she’s able to move again. She doesn’t wait for them to dismount and she certainly doesn’t wait around for the _after_ conversation, before she hurries from the room.

 

It’s going to take the entire bottle of tequila in the bottom drawer of her desk (and then some) to forget what she’s seen.


End file.
